cyclops-第33章
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Pitt had dived on many shipwrecks and he was the first man to view the Titanic； but staring at the lost ghost ship of legend left him numb with an almost superstitious awe。 The knowledge that she was the tomb for over three hundred men only deepened her malignant aura。
The sunken ship was lying on her port side with a list of about twenty…five degrees； her bow set toward the north。 She did not have the look of anything that was supposed to rest on the sea floor； and mother nature had gone to work laying a veil of sediment and marine organisms over the steel intruder。
The entire hull and superstructure were encrusted with sea growth of every imaginable description sponges； barnacles； flowery anemones； feathery sea ferns； and slender weeds that gracefully swayed with the current like the arms of dancers。 Except for the distorted bow and three fallen derricks； the ship was suprisingly intact。
They found Giordino busily scraping the growth from a small section below the stern railing。 He turned at their approach and showed off his handiwork。 He had exposed the raised letters that spelled out Cyclops。
Pitt glanced at his orange…faced Doxa diver's watch。 It seemed an eternity since the blimp crashed； but only nine minutes had passed from the moment they swam out of the control car。 It was imperative that they conserve their air。 They still had to search the wreck and have enough left in the spare tanks for depression。 The safety margin would be cut dangerously thin。
He checked Jessie's air gauge and studied her eyes。 They looked clear and bright。 She was breathing slowly in a fortable rhythm。 She gave him a thumbs…up sign and then threw him a coquettish wink。 Her brush with death in the Prosperteer was forgotten for the moment。
Pitt winked back。 She's actually enjoying this； he thought。
Using hand signals for munication； the four of them fanned out in a line above the fantail and began prowling her length。 The doors of the aft deckhouse had rotted away and the teak deck was heavily worm…eaten。 Any flat surface was coated by sediment that gave the appearance of a dusty shroud。
The jackstaff stood bare； the United States ensign having rotted away long ago。 The two stern guns pointed aft； mute and deserted。 The twin smokestacks stood like sentries over the decaying wreckage of ventilators； bollards and railings； rotting coils of wire and cable still hugging rusting winches。 Like a shantytown； each piece of debris offered a nesting place for spiny urchins； arrow crabs； and other creatures of the sea。
Pitt knew from studying a diagram of the Cyclops' interior that searching the stern section was a waste of time。 The smokestacks stood over the engine room and its crew quarters。 If they were to find the La Dorada statue it would most likely be in the general cargo partment beneath the bridge and forecastle。 He motioned the others to continue their probe toward the bow。
They swam slowly； carefully along the catwalk that stretched over the sprawling coal hatches； skirting around the great clamshell loading buckets and under the corroded derricks that reached forlornly toward the refracted rays from above。 It became apparent to them that the Cyclops had died a quick and violent death。 The rotting remains of the lifeboats were forever frozen in their davits and much of the superstructure looked as if it had been crushed by a monstrous fist。
The odd boxlike form of the bridge slowly took form out of the blue…green dusk。 The two support legs on the starboard side had buckled； but the hull's tilt to port had pensated for the angle。 Peculiarly out of kilter with the rest of the ship； the bridge stood on a perfect horizontal plane。
The dark on the other side of the wheelhouse door looked ominous。 Pitt switched on his dive light and drifted slowly inside； taking care not to stir up the silt on the deck with his fins。 Dim light filtered through the slime…coated portholes on the forward bulkhead。 He brushed away the muck from the glass covering the ship's clock。 The tarnished hands were frozen at 12：21。 He also examined the big upright pass stand。 The interior was still watertight and the needle floated free in kerosene； pointing faithfully toward magnetic north。 Pitt noted that the ship's heading was 340 degrees。
On opposite sides of the pass； covered over by a colony of sponges that turned vivid red under Pitt's light； were two postlike objects that rose from the deck and fanned out at the top。 Curious； Pitt wiped the growth from the port one； revealing a glass face； through which he could barely make out the words AHEAD FULL； HALF； SLOW； DEAD SLOW； STOP； and FINISHED WITH ENGINES。 It was the bridge telegraph to the engine room。 He noted that the brass arrow was pointing to FULL。 He floated over and cleaned the glass on the starboard telegraph。 The pointer was locked on FINISHED WITH ENGINES。
Jessie was about eight feet behind Pitt when she let out a garbled scream that lifted the hair on the nape of his neck。 He spun around； half thinking she was being dragged away by a shark； but she was gesturing frantically at a pair of objects protruding from the silt。
Two human skulls； muck up to their nose openings； stared through empty eye sockets。 They give Pitt the disconcerting feeling he was being watched。 The bones of another crewman rested against the base of the helm； one skeletal arm still wedged between the spokes of the wheel。 Pitt wondered if one of them might be the pitiful remains of Captain Worley。
There was nothing else to see； so Pitt led Jessie outside the wheelhouse and down a panionway to the crew and passenger quarters。 At almost the same time； Gunn and Giordino disappeared down a hatch leading to a small cargo hold。
The layer of silt was shallow in this section of the ship； no more than an inch deep。 The panionway led to a long passageway with small partments off to the sides。 Each one contained bunks； porcelain sinks； scattered personal effects； and the skeletal relics of their occupants。 Pitt soon lost count of the dead。 He paused and added air to his buoyancy pensator to keep his body balanced in a freefloating； horizontal position。 The slightest touch from his fins would stir up large clouds of blinding silt。
Pitt tapped Jessie on the shoulder and shone his light into a small head with a bathtub and two toilets。 He made a questioning gesture。 She grinned around her mouthpiece and made a ical but negative reply。
He accidentally struck his dive light against a steampipe running along the ceiling and momentarily knocked the switch into the Off position。 The sudden realm of utter darkness was as total and stifling as if they were dropped into a coffin and the lid slammed shut。 Pitt had no wish to remain surrounded by eternal black within the grave of the Cyclops； and he quickly flicked on the light again； exposing a brilliant yellow and red sponge colony that clung to the bulkheads of the passageway。
It soon became obvious they would find no evidence of the La Dorada statue here。 They made their way back through the passageway of death and resurfaced on the forecastle deck。 Giordino was waiting and motioned toward a hatch that was frozen half open。 Pitt squeezed through； clanging his air tanks on the frame； and dropped down a badly eroded ladder。
He swam through what looked like a baggage cargo hold； twisting around the jumbled and decayed rubbish； heading toward the unearthly glow of Gunn's dive light。 A pile of unhinged bones passed under him； the jaw of the skull gaping in what seemed in Pitt's imagination a ghastly scream of terror。
He found Gunn intently examining the rotting interior of a large shipping crate。 The grisly skeletal remains of two men were wedged between the crate and a bulkhead。
For a brief instant Pitt's heart pounded with excitement and anticipation； his mind certain they had found the most priceless treasure of the sea。 Then Gunn looked up； and Pitt saw the bitter disappointment reflected in his eyes。
The crate was empty。
A frustrating search of the cargo hold turned up a startling revelation。 Lying in the dark shadows like a collapsed rubber d
